Almond Boy

Almond Boy - 12

When Emma first showed up with her oxygen tank, it freaked Elliot out, he's the first to admit that. Yet now it seems so normal, in fact it seems integral to his day. It reminds him of his humidifier in his room, the sound he can't even sleep without anymore. He doesn't know how he'll react if one day he doesn't hear it at gym. 

Emma sits down and she hits just under her collarbone and lets out a raspy cough. She grabs her chapstick and puts it on her lips, then grabs her bag of trailmix, now with popcorn inside. 

Elliot watches Emma, and sees how her bag of food has gotten larger with more things inside. It takes a lot to keep up the weight of someone with Cystic Fibrosis, and that's evident with Emma. Her elbows are becoming sharper, her cheeks are hollower, her forehead has more worry-lines than it used to. He could barely remember the days when he looked at her and thought she was a healthy looking girl.

The strawberry blonde is rotting.

"Let's go for a walk," Elliot says. Emma quirks her eyebrows up. He read that those with Cystic Fibrosis need exercise, and so does he - he usually does it at home, but not today.

"Where?"

"Just on the track." 

Elliot stands up and Emma forces herself up onto her feet and grabs her oxygen tank. Elliot quickly snatches his bag of almonds and Emma smiles. 

"Never without it," she mutters, waiting for him to catch up. He smiles. 

"Nope."

It's not so hot today, 70 degrees, the low this week, but Elliot feels like he's being baked in an oven. 

"You okay?" Emma asks, watching Elliot who is moving rather slow. 

"Yeah, I'm fine."

They walk for a little while, both munching on almonds and watching the students run around them. They stay on the inside circle. 

"Hey, Almond-Boy?"

"Yeah?"

It makes her laugh how willing he is to respond to that, and it makes him nervous how withered her laugh is nowadays. 

"Since you know about my condition, could you tell me about yours?"

Elliot gives her a little half smirk and nods. 

"Not today, tomorrow okay?" 

"Okay." 

Emma never noticed how poised Elliot walks. He walks with an almost perfectly straight back, his shoulders only barely slouching, and with perfectly rhythmic steps. 

Emma's walk has gone wobbly ever since she got that first infection in her lungs due to what she knows now is Cystic Fibrosis. She's supposed to exercise, but the feeling of not being able to breathe scares the crap out of her. 

Emma always thought the worst way to die was drowning in water, which is why she forced herself to be a good swimmer. Now she's drowning anyways, with bacteria and mucus in her lungs.  

"What's your worst fear?" Emma asks suddenly. Elliot stuffs his hands in his jean pockets and shrugs. 

"I don't know."

"C'mon, you've gotta try better than that." 

"I wasn't done, I just said I don't know. Give me a minute." 

"'Kay." 

Elliot walks silently for a few laps, thinking about it. He wasn't sure. It wasn't fish, it wasn't bees, it wasn't tight spaces, it wasn't heights.